Equine Departure
by Tri Lorian
Summary: Lancelot is forced to say goodbye to a dear friend. {Complete}


**A/N: Batur is Mongolian for 'brave'.**

* * *

The group of knights rode in silence over the green fields. Arthur and Lancelot rode in the front, the others following closely at a leisurely trot. The fatigue was showing on all of their faces. They had been away from the fortress for more than three weeks, and all were happy to return home. Battles had been fought and won. Injuries had been sustained, but thankfully there were no deaths to mourn. It had been a long campaign nonetheless. 

Only half a day of travel was separating them from Hadrian's Wall, only a few hours really if they were to spur their horses on into a gallop. But the knights knew that the horses were in need of their stables as much as the men were of their beds.

Lancelot was watching over the green fields that they were crossing. It wasn't like home where the steppes would reach beyond the horizon. Here the fields turned into hills, mountains at one side, while forests were visible on his other side. But still, he enjoyed the walk through the grass.

Arthur watched his second in command next to him who seemed totally absorbed by his own thoughts. The Sarmatian knight was rarely silent, but Arthur had realized a long time ago already that during the times that he was silent, his mind and soul would be in his home country. He had no intention to disturb Lancelot's memories.

Arthur was still watching when totally unexpectedly Lancelot's horse went down to the ground, his forelegs snapping in two like twigs as they disappeared in a rabbit burrow hidden below the grass surface. The horse's squeals of agony and fright filled the air, almost deafening the knights who had come to a stop immediately, watching on in horror.

Knowing that his knights would take care of the animal, Arthur quickly turned his attention to Lancelot, who had been thrown off over the stallion's head. The dark knight was lying prone on the grass. When the Roman dismounted he noticed that Lancelot was moving and relief flooded him. He knelt down next to the Sarmatian, and watched how Lancelot pushed himself into a sitting position.

Arthur placed a hand on his arm to get his attention. "Lancelot?"

Lancelot lifted his head and their eyes met. The brown eyes looked dazed. He blinked to clear his vision. "Gods…"

Arthur could exactly determine the moment that Lancelot became aware of what had just happened. The curly haired knight whipped his head around to look at his black stallion.

Tristan and Dagonet had both knelt down next to the horse's head and were calming him down. He was lying on his side. Foam was spilling out of him mouth lavishly. Panic was clear in the wide open eyes.

"BATUR!" Panic was obvious in Lancelot's voice as well, as he pushed himself to his feet. Arthur kept his hand on the Sarmatian's arm, keeping him from falling as he swayed on his legs for a moment.

Lancelot reached Batur with quick but uncertain steps. He took in the sight before him shortly, before he dropped to his knees next to the horse's head. Batur snorted in acknowledgment and pressed his nose against Lancelot's hand. When Lancelot started talking to the stallion, stroking his head, petting his neck, playing with his ears, slowly the panic ebbed away from the horse's eyes.

The pain and horror did not leave Lancelot's eyes. His body started to tremble in rhythm with his hands as he knew what he would have to do. He just couldn't do it immediately. He took a deep breath trying to calm himself down, not wanting to aggravate Batur's distress any further.

Tristan was watching his brother-in-arms. He saw how Lancelot was trying to compose himself. He understood the decision that Lancelot had already made. "Lancelot," he said softly.

Briefly the dark knight looked up and his gaze met with the scout. He returned his attention almost immediately to Batur.

"There is no other option. It is the right decision." Tristan hoped he could offer some kind of reassurance but he knew that only time would be able to heal the wounds that were yet to be sustained.

Lancelot nodded slowly. "I know." His quiet voice brimmed with ache.

Slowly he stood. He only realized that Arthur was still behind him, lending him his support, when he felt his commander's hand on his arm once more. Green eyes met brown eyes, but neither men knew what to say. The Roman could find no words to comfort his friend, the Sarmatian had no words to express his pain. The look in Lancelot's eyes did relay to Arthur that he was grateful for his presence.

With stiff steps Lancelot walked around Batur and unfastened his bow from behind his saddle. When he straightened, he felt another hand on his arm. He saw Gawain standing behind him when he looked up.

"You don't have to do this, Lancelot. You can ask any of us to do this for you." Gawain's face showed his concern for his friend.

Lancelot cast his eyes to the ground. He shook his head. "Thank you, Gawain, but I have to do this myself."

Gawain nodded briefly. "We're here. Remember that," he said softly before retracting his hand.

Lancelot slowly turned around and walked towards Batur one last time, the bow gripped tightly in his hand.

Galahad stepped up to stand next to Gawain. "What is happening? What is he going to do?"

Gawain looked at the youngest of the knights. All of them had lost horses in the years past, but almost always in battle or to disease. Only rarely would one of the great animals die at the hands of one of his caretaker. "Batur is lost, Galahad. He can't survive with two broken legs. Lancelot is going to end his suffering." The blond knight whispered, not wanting Lancelot to hear the words, even though it would be the exact words as echoing around in his mind.

Lancelot had knelt down next to Batur and was stroking the horse's soft nose. Suddenly he rose to his feet again. "Goodbye, my friend," he whispered. He turned to Tristan, pleading with his eyes, knowing that the scout would understand what he needed.

Tristan stood up as well, and turned around to his own grey mare. He pulled out several of the arrows from the quiver that hung in front of his saddle, and tested them for strength until he found one that satisfied him. Without a word, he handed it to Lancelot. While Lancelot walked off, Tristan turned back to his horse, and removed his bed roll from behind his saddle. He rolled out the dark blanket while walking towards Batur. He knelt down next to the horse and stroked the horse's head gently. He continued to stroke him while he placed the blanket over his eyes. Under Tristan's soothing hands the black stallion did not protest the cloth that was obscuring his vision. When Tristan looked up, he saw Lancelot standing several feet away.

The dark haired knight held his bow in one hand, the scout's arrow in the other. He had his head bowed, and his eyes closed. Lancelot could feel his hands trembling, and forced his body and soul to calm down. He did not want to miss and prolong Batur's suffering. He took one final deep breath, before he nocked the arrow and aimed the bow.

Lancelot's gaze crossed Tristan's, who was sitting next to Batur in the grass. "Aim for the hollow of his neck. Don't put too much tension on the bow. You need accuracy, not speed." Tristan knew that Lancelot was well aware of the directions he was giving, but he hoped that it would give his distressed friend something to focus on, allowing him to calm himself.

The swooshing sound of a flying arrow was heard, immediately followed by the reverberating sound of a vibrating string. Batur made no noise when the arrow entered him at the hollow of his neck, piercing through soft tissue until it penetrated his brain. His legs jerked involuntarily before his entire body went limp.

None of the knights dared to speak. They were waiting for Lancelot to make the next move.

It took Arthur several minutes before he realized that Lancelot was not about to move, that he was frozen in shock. He walked towards the Sarmatian, and walked around him when he noticed that Lancelot had not heard him approach. Trying not to startle him, he gently placed his hand on his friend's arm. "Lancelot?"

In response, Lancelot dropped the bow like it burned his hands.

Arthur placed his other hand on Lancelot's other arm, gently shaking him. "Lancelot? It is over, my friend, it is over."

Lancelot finally lifted his head to look at his commander. Arthur saw that his eyes were as dazed as when he had just recovered from the fall off his horse. Lancelot nodded his head slowly, but did not speak up.

With light pressure Arthur pushed Lancelot around, to face away from the dead body of Batur. He kept his arm around the Sarmatian's shoulder as he started to walk forwards on unsteady legs. Arthur was ready for him when his knees buckled and Lancelot threatened to collapse to the ground. Gently he helped Lancelot sit down as all strength seemed to have left him.

Gawain soon appeared in front of them and handed Lancelot a water sack. "Drink," he said urgently as he wrapped Lancelot's fingers around the leather sack. The blond knight exchanged a concerned glance with Arthur.

"Can you arrange for all his things to be moved to the other horses? He'll ride with me," Arthur whispered, thanking Gawain with his eyes.

Arthur sat next to Lancelot, urging him to drink some water now and again, while keeping an eye on his other knights while they busied themselves with transferring Lancelot's swords, bed roll, and other possessions to several of the other horses.

When none of the knights could find anything left to do, Arthur knew it was time to get Lancelot up and on his horse. He nodded to Dagonet to bring his white stallion closer. "Lancelot? Do you think you can stand? Mount?" he asked hesitantly.

When Lancelot nodded briefly, Arthur pushed himself to his feet. Seeing that Lancelot made no move to stand as well, he offered his hand to pull him up. Lancelot accepted speechlessly. Arthur was glad to see that Lancelot was no longer unsteady on his legs, but his silence was unnerving.

With little effort, Lancelot mounted Arthur's big stallion. Arthur quickly followed and seated himself behind the Sarmatian. "Can you take the reins?" the Roman asked quietly.

It took a few seconds before Lancelot bent forwards and took the reins in his hands. As soon as Arthur saw that he was holding the reins like he had never ridden on horseback before, he removed the tack from Lancelot's hands and took them over himself. He wrapped his left arm around Lancelot's waist to keep him in the saddle. He looked back to the other knights and signaled to them to follow as he briefly kicked his horse in his flanks. When they had settled into an easy gallop, he asked softly, "Are you alright?" His worry came through in his voice undisguised.

After a brief while, Lancelot shook his head. Arthur could feel the body against his shivering like he was cold. The Roman pulled Lancelot closer to him, offering him all of his support and warmth.

Half an hour later Lancelot spoke up for the first time like no time had past. "I will be…" His voice broke and Arthur could feel how the Sarmatian's frame shuddered with a suppressed sob. He fell silent again for the rest of their journey.

When they rode through the gates of the fortress, Jols was waiting for them at the stables. He raised his eyebrows questioningly as he saw Lancelot riding in front of his commander, seemingly unharmed. Arthur shook his head to silence the squire before he could ask anything. Understanding dawned in Jols' eyes when he realized that Lancelot's black stallion was not amongst the horses.

Lancelot did not wait for Arthur to dismount as he threw his right leg over the white horse's neck and slid down to the floor. For a moment it looked like he would sag to the ground, but he managed to hold himself upright. Without saying a word, or looking back, he walked out of the stables.

Arthur swiftly dismounted, intent on going after Lancelot, when he felt a hand gripping his arm with urgency. Gawain held him back. "Leave him. You can't help him now, Arthur. He will have to deal with this himself first. Then he'll come to you."

Knowing that the blond knight was right, Arthur watched as Lancelot rounded the corner and disappeared from his sight. He sighed deeply before he turned back to Gawain. "You're right. I know that you're right. I just don't like it." Lancelot mourned his lost horses as he did his lost friends and fellow knights. In solitude.

Gawain nodded knowingly. "Neither do I, or any of us. But it is for the best."

–– 8 ––

It was late that night that Galahad came to Arthur's quarters. He entered quietly as not to disturb the Roman and waited until Arthur looked up from the maps in front of him. "Lancelot came back down from the hill. He's on the battlements."

Deep concern flashed over Arthur's features. "Has he spoken to anyone?"

"No." Galahad shook his head, sharing his commander's worries.

–– 8 ––

Lancelot only became aware of Arthur's presence, when he sat down next to him, his back against the cold stones.

"Are you alright?" Arthur repeated his question from earlier.

"I've been better." A bitterness was tangible in the Sarmatian's voice. Immediately he hung his head. "I'm sorry…" Lancelot said softly.

"Don't worry about it." Arthur placed his hand on the distressed knight's shoulder. "I'm worried about you. We all are."

Lancelot looked up and Arthur could see the pain etched on his face. "I will be alright… Just not right now."

Arthur nodded. "That's reasonable," he said in a light tone.

Lancelot didn't answer. Silence lay as a warm blanket over the two men before the Sarmatian spoke up again. "Do you ever wonder where horses go when they die? My father told me once that fallen knights return as great horses. But where do they go when they fall again?"

Arthur met Lancelot's gaze before he answered. "Heaven?"

A slight smile tugged at Lancelot's lips. Arthur would have missed it if he hadn't been looking straight into his best friend's face. "You and your God…"


End file.
